


From Ashes

by AngelBless



Series: Glaive!Noct AU [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Rating May Change, Time Skips, cute kid stuff, glaive!noct, ignis' uncle got a promotion, noct has a different name in this AU, will add tags/characters with each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelBless/pseuds/AngelBless
Summary: The gods had a plan for Noctis. Regis would defy them to keep his son safe. Even if it meant saying goodbye.After a near-fatal daemon attack at age five, Noctis grows up under a new name with a new family, free to live his life however he wants. As he recovers and fights with the feeling that he's missing important, it becomes clear to him which path he longs to walk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New AU time!! What started as a random plotbunny while looking at a [really awesome fanart](https://doomherald.tumblr.com/post/158247641264/glaive-noct-who-does-he-serve) soon turned into a fully fledged AU that I have now sold my soul to :'D
> 
> Haha please don't destroy all of this Episode Ignis >o<;;;
> 
> Really hope you enjoy this first part!

Five years old.

Noctis was only five years old when his fate had been sealed by the Crystal. A horrific attack by the Niflheim Empire had rendered the poor boy in a comatose state, where even the most skilled healers in Insomnia had failed to cure him beyond his physical injuries.

The Oracle and queen of Tenebrae, Sylva Nox Fleuret, had been called upon with urgency when the poor boy was deemed unsuitable to travel. It was then, during her time healing him, that the Crystal had revealed Noctis’ status as the Chosen King, the one to fight away the scourge and the impending darkness. That his life would be forfeit.

He was five years old, and the gods had decided upon his death.

This wasn’t fair. Regis’ hands shook as he clasped them around his son’s hand. He was so small, so young. How could this have happened? It seemed like some cruel joke that his own child would be the one to sacrifice himself—his future. And now he lay unconscious, the empire almost taking his life away, because of his lineage.

Regis wanted none of it. He couldn’t face losing anyone else he loved, not after Aulea had already been so viciously ripped away from him.

Noctis was to be the king of prophecy. But Regis refused to let that happen.

 

“Regis, what are you  _ saying _ ?” Sylva asked incredulously, her voice hushed as the gentle glow in her hands faded. She pulled them away from Noctis’ body, halting her healing for the moment.

“I wish for him to never be king—I will  _ not _ allow him to be tied down to fate’s cruel design,” Regis replied, his eyes locked onto his son’s face as he took in every detail, every slight movement from his shallow breathing. “By any means necessary, if I must.”

Sylva remained silent for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. “Regis, that simply cannot be done.” Her voice was quiet, filled with a sorrow that the king could only assume was for the sake of her own daughter, Lunafreya. Merely a child herself, she had already been informed of her purpose in life, and had bravely swore she would see it through. She was also too young—too innocent—for this. “The gods have willed it, we cannot—”

“Would it not be best to  _ try _ ?” He sounded pained, running his hand over his face as he sucked in a deep breath. “Sylva, they are  _ children _ , they cannot be raised for the slaughter. Surely you cannot want this.”

“I would never want the death of my own child, Regis,” she replied, her voice clipped. She looked away, frown deepening. “But what more can be done, should the Six will it to be so?” Regis ran a hand through Noctis’ hair, his heart warming at the slight groan at his touch. His boy would be alright. He would continue to be alright. No matter what.

“He will be raised away from the royal line,” he finally said. “I do not wish him to be far, but he shall know nothing of his lineage, or what those damned gods have planned for him. He can be free to live a life away from this burden.” His eyes locked on the Ring of the Lucii that sat on his finger—a constant reminder of his diminished time, and the time that would eventually be taken from his own flesh and blood. Finally he looked up at the queen of Tenebrae once more. “Will you stand by my side, Sylva? I only wish for both of our children to be  _ free _ .”

Sylva remained quiet, moving back to her healing as the tense atmosphere weighed upon them. Her gaze stayed trained on the young boy before her. “And you are prepared for whatever wrath may await you for your actions?”

“For Noctis, I am prepared to face any consequence.”

He could see a glimmer in the queen’s eyes; hope for a future she had not thought possible. If Noctis could be excluded from the prophecy, then perhaps Lunafreya could be saved as well, unable to serve her chosen purpose. “Very well then,” she said. Her voice held with an even regality, as ever it did, yet there was a barely distinguishable tremor, one that spoke of far too many emotions and uncertainties. “For our children, I will stand with you.”

Regis smiled warmly. “You have my deepest gratitude, Sylva.” He held Noctis’ hand tighter than he ever had, hoping the warmth of his hands would be felt, even in his unconscious state. It  _ hurt _ . He had already accepted that it would hurt, but now he had spoken his plan, the reality of it came crashing down upon him. A tear fell, followed by more, as he held his son’s hand close to his face.

“Noctis, my son, I love you so much. Goodbye.”

 

That was the day Noctis Lucis Caelum died. A nation mourned the loss of its young prince, who had barely even lived any kind of life at all, before being so cruelly taken away. The boy woke after a long slumber to unfamiliar faces, his eyes wide with confusion and fear as he struggled to recall anything beyond fleeting glimpses that danced beyond his grasp, a small comforting blue fox statuette his only possession. He was to be adopted into the family of one of Regis’ closest and most trusted councilmen.

That was the day Callum Scientia was born from the ashes of Noctis Lucis Caelum’s tragic destiny.

 

Queen Sylva had remained in Insomnia—a gesture of sympathy and goodwill towards the grieving country. Although in reality, she remained merely long enough to ensure that her healing had been enough for the boy, before parting ways with a renewed optimism for the future. Regis mouthed a wholehearted thank you as they embraced one final time, before her long journey back to Tenebrae.

“Lunafreya will no doubt have heard the news,” she said, voice merely a whisper. “Your actions have hurt all those around you, Regis. But I know full well that your decision has not been an easy one to make.” She smiled wistfully. “May the gods show mercy upon you.”

“As may they you, dear Sylva.” On those words, they went their separate ways.

 

“You haven’t touched your vegetables yet, Callum. Is something wrong?” Lux Scientia, one of the king’s councilmen, spoke softly from across the table. The boy hummed noncommittally, pushing some peas lazily around his plate.

“Still doesn’t sound right,” he said, cheeks puffed somewhat in an adorable pout.

“What doesn’t?” the man asked curiously.

“Callum. It sounds funny. It’s No...it’s, um…Noc...” Lux let out a soft chuckle.

“You must still be confused, my boy. Callum is your name, and a fine one at that.” The boy let out another low hum. “Come now, we can’t have your dinner going cold. Those vegetables weren’t plucked from the ground just to be thrown away.” His eyes widened slightly at the words, before finally taking a mouthful and chewing thoughtfully. Lux could tell from the look on his face that the vegetables were less than pleasant to him, but he was a good kid, not wanting them to go to waste. It was strange for the man to not be dining alone; it had been years since his wife had left, leaving his spacious home far too empty for just one man and a small handful of staff.

The child he had once known as ‘Prince Noctis’ was certainly a bright, lively young boy; far more so now he was on the path to recovery. It had taken a couple of months after the accident for him to become fully coherent, bafflingly devoid of all but very fleeting memories, and the months following saw him entering the Scientia household, where his physical therapy began. Only the best doctors had been seen fit to treat him, but the boy never questioned the level of attention he was getting. He was part of a rich family and he knew no different, after all.

By now he was six years old and eager to run before he could walk—quite literally. It had been a long road, full of hurdles for the two of them, both physically and emotionally. He could finally manage short distances, but longed to run around the expansive hallways and through the gardens. His sheer determination was a blessing to behold, only growing by the day as he found himself more comfortable in the Scientia household. Lux was positive his nephew would absolutely adore him.

“I ate them. Can I go now?” The man was pulled out of his reminisce to the sight of bright eyes looking expectantly at him.

“You may be dismissed, yes.”

Callum Scientia wasted no time in scrambling from the table, making his way somewhat unsteadily to his bedroom.

 

A few months longer and it felt as if the two of them had always been in that house together. Callum seemed to be in good spirits as he regained more strength in his legs by the day, but there was still an air of uncertainty that lingered over him, with a melancholy mood sweeping over him some days. On one particular night, Lux found himself once more reading a bedtime story to Callum, as he had promised Regis he would.

“And so, the great pirate stood before the young man, grinning as he declared ‘You shall never claim the treasure from me’. The storm raged around them, and—”

“You’re not reading it right.” Lux looked down to see the small boy huddled up under his covers, snuggling his Carbuncle figure close to his chest and peeking up at the man. He wore a small pout. “I remember...funny voices. The pirate’s was deep and mean.”

Lux’s heart sank; clearly he was remembering something from before the accident. The poor child, he hadn’t even realised how much everything had changed around him. How he’d forgotten was a complete mystery. He masked the frown on his face with a chuckle; however it had happened, it was for the best he couldn’t remember.

Clearing his throat, Lux continued, reading the pirate’s dialogue in the roughest toughest voice he could muster. Callum giggled, yawning loudly as his eyes began to droop. “Thanks, dad.” Within seconds, he was fast asleep, as Lux placed the book delicately on the bedside table. It was a simple word, yet said with such serenity and warmth. A heavy feeling weighed in his heart as he watched Callum sleep peacefully.

 

A knock on the heavy wooden door leading to King Regis’ private study echoed throughout the room, followed by a creak as it opened. “Your Majesty.” Regis looked up from his paperwork to see Lux as he entered the room. The king waved for his guards to exit the room before allowing the man to speak. He gave the king a low bow. “I believe you wished to see me. I can only apologise that my duties have left me somewhat indisposed until now.”

Regis held up a hand to silence him. “Have no worries. I merely wish to know about...” He paused, glancing behind his councilman as if to be sure the door was closed completely. “I wish I know about the recent addition to your household.” He spoke in such a cryptic way, as if afraid his words would be heard by unwelcome ears.

“He is well, Your Majesty. As is to be expected with the superlative treatment he has received. He is eating well, and has begun to explore the gardens—under strict supervision, of course.” Lux chuckled somewhat nervously at his addition, before it died out and he cast his eyes down, a forlorn look crossing his features. Regis tilted his head slightly in concern, leaning forward at his desk.

“Is there something else you wish to tell me?” The man looked hesitant to reply, before finally meeting eyes with his king once more.

“Your Majesty, I’m afraid you must forgive me, but…” He stood straighter as he drew in a breath. “He called me ‘dad’ last night.”

There was a shift in Regis’ expression, barely noticeable to those who hadn’t known him for years. It was as if a part of his world had been pulled from underneath him as he stayed unnaturally still. After a few seconds, he leant back into his chair once more, letting out a breath.

“Thank you. That will be all.” His voice had become weary, aging him by years in the space of a few short words. They had both known this would happen; it was only a matter of time before the boy had found a father figure in his new guardian. But for it to be spoken as a reality...everything was still far too fresh, despite the months passing.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Lux bowed deeply once more, taking his leave.

 

Callum was eight years old when the next big change in his life happened. Regis had travelled to Tenebrae on a visit of amity between the kingdoms. He had met with Sylva once more, speaking with her on private matters, such as that of the gods of and of their children, and was finally able to meet Ravus and Lunafreya, heirs to the Tenebraen throne. Lunafreya had spoken her sorrow and condolences to the king for the loss of his son. She was such a finely spoken young lady, he could see why Sylva shone with pride whenever speaking of her.

Ravus was mostly absent from Regis’ visit, tending to his studies and training. He was an extremely focused and dutiful young man—a fine heir, truly.

The peaceful meeting was not meant to last. Niflheim forces descended upon Fenestala Manor, wreaking chaos and destruction upon the peaceful land and ultimately slaying Queen Sylva as Regis was forced to retreat, unable to save Ravus and Lunafreya from the empire’s grasp.

Among the carnage, there were both Tenebraen and Lucian casualties alike. And among those…

Callum fidgeted as Lux buttoned up his shirt, pulling at it and declaring it too tight. Lux merely brushed aside his complaints at ‘being strangled’ with a slight chuckle. “Now Callum, you must be on your best behaviour today, understand? Your cousin Ignis will be staying with us from now on. I want you to be very nice to him.”

“I know, dad, you’ve already told me,” the young boy said, still squirming against his collar and trying to undo the topmost button. “How come he’s gotta stay with us? Are his parents away?” Lux stayed quiet for a long moment.

“Not exactly,” he finally said. “There was a nasty attack in Tenebrae while King Regis was visiting. They were lost, among many others.”

“You mean, are they...?” Callum let out a little gasp, clasping his hands over his mouth. “Oh no, he’s gonna be so sad—I’ll be good, I swear!” A hand tussled through his unruly hair.

“I know you will, son.”

 

“Ignis, this is Callum. I’m sure the two of you will get along just fine.” Lux rested his hand reassuringly on Ignis’ shoulder as the boy stood silent, shoulders square. He stiffly held his hand out to the younger boy, his expression somewhat bearing that of a dog caught in headlights.

“A pleasure to meet you, Master Callum,” he said, overly enunciated and formal. It was clear to even Callum that the poor boy was nervous, relying on every etiquette lesson he had ever been taught. Callum placed both of his hands around Ignis’ own.

“Nice to meet you!” he said with a grin. “You can just call me Callum, though. I don’t like any of that ‘master’ stuff the servants keep saying.” Ignis nodded in response, clearly still somewhat on edge.

“Now then, Callum. You’ll be good and show Ignis around, won’t you?” Lux asked, a gentle smile on his face. “I’m sure he would love to see his room.”

“Okay!” On that enthusiastic note, he kept a hold of Ignis’ hand and led him up the stairs, his voice fading as they left the entryway. “You’re gonna  _ love _ it, Iggy. Oh wait, can I call you Iggy? Anyway, it’s  _ huge _ ! It’s just up here, and…”

 

Callum hadn’t felt right all day. Something was itching in the back of his mind that he hadn’t felt for a long while. It was as if he yearned for a place from a dream; somewhere calling for him that he couldn't even remember, somewhere beyond the reach of his memories. The more he tried to remember, the more his head hurt.

He rolled over in bed, wishing he could just fall asleep as he held Carbuncle tight within his grasp. It felt like such a childish thing to do, but ever since he was young, it had always been with him, helping him feel better. It didn’t seem to be working tonight, though. With a sigh, he shoved the covers away and sat upright. Falling asleep right now was definitely out of the question. Climbing out of bed and quietly leaving his room, he tiptoed down the hallway, stopping in front of the door to Ignis’ room. He hesitated before carefully opening the door, sneaking in.

“Iggy?” he whispered into the dark room. Silence. “Hey, Iggy?” His voice was a little louder now, and was met with an incoherent mumble and some shuffling sounds as the bedside lamp turned on.

“Callum..?” Ignis groaned, still in a half-asleep daze as he rubbed his eyes. “Wha’s the matter?” Callum walked into the room and slumped onto the bed.

“I can’t sleep,” he whined, kicking his legs as he looked at Ignis.

“Is there something troubling you?” Ignis asked, suddenly much more awake. He grabbed his glasses and shuffled forward.

“I dunno. It’s weird. I feel...homesick, I guess? But that’s stupid, I  _ am _ home.” He sighed. “I know dad said I had another home before but...I don’t even remember it. How can I be homesick for  _ that _ ?”

The older boy pondered for a moment. “Perhaps...you are missing some company? You can stay the night if you wish.” Callum’s face lit up a little at the suggestion. It wasn’t the first time he’d spent the night with Ignis in the months he’d been with them. It had become a regular occurrence whenever either of them were feeling unwell, or when thoughts of loneliness refused to leave.

Ignis pulled him close. “I get homesick too, y’know,” he said, words slurring slightly as fatigue crept up on him once more. “I think...I miss how things used to be.” He paused, laying back on the bed as Callum turned to look at him. “But I try to find things that are familiar. Designs, layouts, all sorts. There’s a lot here in common with my parents’ house, the more I think about it.” A small smile crept onto his lips. “I still miss my old home, but...it really helps.”

Callum lay back on the bed too, an arm draped over Ignis in an attempted hug. The two talked about all sorts of strange things until finally they both succumbed to sleep.

 

The first time Callum warped, he wound up propped against the wall and mostly upside down, completely shell shocked as pieces of broken vase lay strewn around him. Lux had rushed to the source of the commotion, finding Ignis picking up the pieces carefully as Callum blinked in confusion, wide eyes darting between the two.

“What happened here?” Lux asked, utterly baffled at the sight before him. Ignis stood suddenly, turning to face him.

“I—I’m sorry, uncle. Callum insisted on a race to the front doors, but—”

“I flew through the air!”

Callum eyes sparkled with excitement, and perhaps a hint of magic that still lingered. It was the most energised Lux had seen the nine year old in a while. If either of the boys were paying attention, they’d have seen the colour drain from their guardian’s face.

“Flew...through the air?” he repeated, feeling a slight twitch in his eye.

“Yes, uncle,” Ignis confirmed. “It was blue, like crystals. Before we knew it, he had launched forward and broken the vase.” He gave a low bow. “Please forgive us.”

“Sorry!” Callum chimed in.

A moment passed before he shook his head, moving to pick the excited young boy up from the ground. Once he was upright once more, Lux picked up one of the shards, sighing at the loss of one of his collectable pieces. “There’s no need for apology. Ignis, will you please fetch one of the staff to clean up this mess?”

On that request, Ignis rushed off. Callum was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a wide grin on his face.

“It was so  _ great _ , dad! You should’ve seen it, I just ran and  _ whoosh _ ! Maybe I can do it again, then you can see—!”

“That...won’t be necessary.” Lux cut him off with a slight grimace at the child’s boundless energy. He knelt down, meeting him eye to eye. “Callum, do you realise what that was?” Callum shook his head quickly, staggering a little at the motion—clearly still woozy. “That was the king’s magic. Only a lucky few have such a natural connection to it, but those that do possess both great strength and responsibility alike.”

Callum’s expression brimmed with awe at the words. “The king can do that flying thing too?!” he squeaked. Lux couldn’t help but chuckle fondly.

“Not as well as he used to, I’m afraid, but there is much more he can do. Perhaps I should introduce you to the king’s glaives. They’re elite members of the royal guard who wield the king’s magic to protect Insomnia. Then you can see what His Majesty’s magic can  _ really _ do.”

As Ignis returned with one of the servants in tow, Lux gazed down proudly upon Callum, who wasted no time in telling the older boy everything.

He definitely had a strong spirit, just like his father. Whether or not he’d made a wise choice in divulging knowledge of the Crystal’s magic, he knew one thing for sure; Regis was going to be so proud of his boy.

 

Callum found watching the glaives to be one the most exhilarating moments of his young life. Seeing them warp around the training area  _ just like he had _ , weapons materialising as they blocked and parried, honing their skills. And were those  _ force fields _ ? And  _ fire _ ?! Lux kept watch out of the corner of his eye, seeing the boy’s eyes dart this way and that, trying to take in every little detail of all that was going on around him.

The glaives worked with skill, discipline—perfect attributes for Callum to acquire. It could be seen as an absurd twist of fate for the once prince of Lucis to take on the role of the king’s protector, but somehow, it seemed right.

Lux motioned to one of the men, calling him over to them. It was one of the men Callum had seen on a rare visit into the Citadel. The man jogged over, saluting briefly before casting his eyes down at the young boy that looked up at him with such fascination. “My son has begun to exhibit magical prowess,” Lux began after clearing his throat. “Perhaps you could tell him a little about your role? He is most interested in it.”

The man smirked, tousling the boy’s hair. “Well, it ain’t easy kid, I can tell you that. Long hours of training, mastering the magic that flows through your veins.” He stood upright, arms folded. “But, you’re a protector. The people need peace and we’re here to ensure the wall won’t go down anytime soon.” He pulled a shuriken out from the ether in a flurry of crystalline light. “Power is right at your fingertips, as is the power to defend this nation from any that mean it harm. To put your life on the line every single day for that cause, with no regrets.” He sent the weapon away in another spectacular display as it dissolved into shards. “With the good comes the bad. So, what do you think? Reckon you’re up for it? Feel free to try, we could always use more recruits.”

Callum continued to stare up at the man—he looked starstruck as the words registered. “Thank you for your time,” Lux said, nodding in gratitude as the glaive returned to his training. He continued to watch the rest of the fighters as some broke off from their routine to take a break.

“Dad?” He looked down to see Callum’s eyes alight with zeal, fixed on the sights before him. His hands balled into fists, shoulders tense with untapped energy. Lux knew the words that danced on his tongue. Mere seconds of silence passed as the boy drew in a deep breath. “I wanna become a glaive.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We can do this again real soon, right?”  
> “Count on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hihi everyone! Oh gosh, it's been a while, I'm so sorry about that! >o< Sorta hit a real icky period of self doubt and everything's sorta taking twice as long or more to write. Oops!
> 
> Ok so before we begin, I just wanna say something real quick. This fic is going to have a different layout to my other fics. Certain scenarios/interactions will be expanded on in side stories, to keep POV from getting too cluttered, and because I can expand the AU in a much more free manner. Also yes, Noctis' name change is probably strange to work with, but it's listed in the tags, and honestly? Find/replace is a blessing. I just want everyone to understand what I'm doing with this fic, so to speak. And if anyone wants to see anything expanded on, I'd be happy to hear it. I have a few things planned already, hopefully the first one shot will be out soon enough.
> 
> But enough of me rambling, hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> Oh! And also! I drew something to go along with the fic. You can find it [here on my tumblr](http://doodlebless.tumblr.com/post/168092996392)!

Lux stood silent, perfectly poised and hands behind his back as he studied his king’s face. He knew Regis would be opposed to the idea; he was beginning to regret introducing the boy to such a possibility in the first place. They stood alone once more in the king’s private study, away from the prying eyes and ears of the guard. Lux adjusted his position slightly. He had to stand his ground. “Your Majesty, I know this is a difficult prospect, but I must assure you, it would be most beneficial for your son.”

“For him to step into danger on my account?” Regis said, his tone hollow. “That is precisely  _ why _ he lives the life he now has—to keep him away all of that.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. “Agreed, but you must consider this—his magic has begun to manifest, and any other child would be whisked away to train and protect their kingdom. To deny him that when we are sorely lacking in numbers would surely raise suspicion.”

Regis considered this. It was true, he wanted to deflect any attention from his son as much as he could, and the case of a child wielding magic  _ not _ being allowed the chance to train for the kingsglaive would surely catch someone’s ear.

“I believe it would be safer this way, also,” Lux continued, pleading internally that he was not overstepping his bounds. “He would be surrounded by the kingdom’s finest soldiers—no harm would befall him. I understand this is difficult, but to see the fire in his eyes upon the sight of your magic at work was like nothing I have witnessed before. Even my nephew Ignis agrees it would be a worthwhile pursuit, given his enthusiasm.”

The room remained silent for a long few moments, before the king sighed.

“Very well,” he said, the brief flicker of a reminiscent smile on his face. “I have already denied Noctis his heritage and his past, it would be cruel to tear this endeavour away from him also.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Lux bowed and turned to leave.

“But please…” He stopped in his tracks, turning back to face his king. “I beg of you, let him be safe.” He closed his eyes, memories rising to the surface. “I must admit, I still see him as the five year old I said goodbye to, even though he has grown so much, but I still fear for him, as I’m sure any parent would fear for their child.”

Lux gave another deep bow. “I swear by my king and country, he shall not come to harm.”

“Thank you.”

As the door shut and the room fell to silence once more, Regis let out a long, weary breath. Burying his face in his hands, he mulled over the conversation. His chest ached knowing that his child was growing up without him. Happy, fulfilled, with dreams for the future completely disconnected from the role born of him, and yet oh so close. Had it really been four years already since that fateful day had shaken his world apart to the point where he would defy the gods for Noctis to have a chance at happiness?

He thought back to the days spent by Noctis’ bedside, begging for his boy to be alright, that he would be able to live his life anew, as painful a thought as that was.

 

_ Holding a small blue figure in his hands, he rubbed his thumb up and down it’s smooth surface absentmindedly, before raising it close to his face. “I beg of you,” he had whispered to the strange figurine. “Please make Noctis forget. Please...give him a second chance.” It almost felt as if the tiny model in his hands had shimmered with magic unlike anything Regis had felt before. It was a gift from the gods, sent to protect his son, he had just known it. Ever since the day he’d found it lay before the Crystal, mere days after Noctis’ birth, he’d known it had been sent as a messenger—a protector. _

_ And now he had prayed that it would protect Noctis from his fate, even if that meant defying the gods, like he too had done. Laying the statue back beside his son’s head, all he could do was wait. _

 

_ “Your Majesty.” Regis’ head perked up as the head doctor—a man the king trusted with his life to keep such an enormous secret—entered the nearby room he had occupied during Noctis’ healing. Regis cast the man a long look, waiting for him to continue. “He was conscious but for a brief time, however…” _

_ “However?” _

_ “It appears he doesn’t remember anything. He was extremely confused and fearful. We managed to calm him down, he’s currently sleeping once more.” He paused, taking in the look of grim acceptance on Regis’ face. “I take it this situation is...acceptable?” _

_ “Very much so. I have informed you of your duty, I trust you to follow it well.” _

_ “Of course, Your Majesty.” _

 

Absentmindedly, and letting out a long sigh, he filed through the paperwork that had been left untended on his desk. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of his son, savouring the frequent updates on his life and photos Lux had taken over the years. Pulling out the most recent photo from his desk drawer, he studied his son’s features carefully. His eyes were so much like Aulea’s it  _ hurt _ . His eyes traced the features that resembled himself. His son would never know who the shape of his nose or the stern shape his jaw took when he frowned were from. Placing it away delicately, a knock echoed on the door as Clarus Amicitia walked in. Of course, he had a meeting to attend to. There was no time to dwell in his loss. It was his choice, after all.

 

“So tell me, Callum. How was your first day?” Callum sat in the passenger’s seat, oddly quiet as they drove the short journey home.

“Was really tough,” he mumbled, his cheeks puffing in a pout, as they always did when he was frustrated. “I couldn’t even hit anyone ‘cause they do this weird  _ fwoosh _ thing where they passed through my sword. They said they couldn’t help it, but how am I s’posed to learn how to attack or defend when no one stays still?!”

“Is that so?” Lux said with a laugh. He had heard the glaives could be a little...forward in their training methods, particularly unfair to newbies in combat. “We can arrange to have someone else train you for now. The glaives can teach you later.” The pout became even more noticeable.

“Wanted to learn magic though.”

“You will, Callum, but a basic fighting technique comes first. If the glaives cannot behave, then we shall find someone who shall.” They pulled into the driveway and Lux was quick to pull out his phone. “I shall handle it. Go meet with Ignis, he’s really missed you today.”

He could see the boy’s heart sink at the words before he rushed off into the house. Ignis had taken to his studies very meticulously; he was a bright kid who Lux was sure would make an excellent member of the council someday. But he had deeply missed his usual company, that much was clear.

 

“So then I tried to hit them and they went right through it!” Callum said, voice rising in pitch in frustration as he recalled his day. “Then one moved behind me and hit my back—you  _ know _ how much my back hurts sometimes.” He groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “I couldn’t even warp like I did before. I  _ really _ tried though. Dad said he’s gonna get someone else to train me without magic.” He turned to look at Ignis, an arm draped over his forehead. “Does that mean I’m not doing good enough to learn magic?”

Ignis was fast to his side. “Not at all. A single accidental warp is nothing compared to years of physical and mental discipline.” Callum groaned internally; why did Ignis always have to talk so formally? They were practically brothers now, right? He was distracted from his thought as a hand ruffled through his hair. “You will be a wonderful glaive someday, fully in tune with the king’s magic. Have my word.” Callum couldn’t help but smile. He sounded so sincere it was hard to argue.

“Thanks, Iggy.”

 

“Callum, I would like you to meet your new sparring partner,” Lux said, gesturing towards a young dark haired teen as he stood tall, eyes cast down on the boy. “This is Gladiolus Amicitia, shield in training to aid in the protection of the king alongside his father. He will give you combat training in preparation for your official kingsglaive training.”

Callum swallowed nervously as he studied the teen. Something about him made him more on edge than any of the glaives had managed to do. Perhaps it was the sharp look in his eyes. He was still so  _ young _ , though. How much could he really teach? Still, he held out a hand, mustering a polite smile.

“Nice to meet you, Gladiolus. I’m Callum.” Gladiolus shook his hand, his expression unchanging.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” Lux said, taking a step back. “Callum, I’ll come to collect you in three hours, alright?” Callum nodded slightly, watching his father walk away before looking back up at his trainer.

“So,” Gladiolus began, walking over to the weapons stand and pulling out a couple of lighter wooden swords. “We’re gonna start things off real simple.” He threw the sword towards Callum, who fumbled about with it before he finally caught it. “A good offense starts with a good defense, and a good defense starts with a good stance. We’re gonna be going over that today. Got it?”

“Y-yes sir!” he squeaked, straightening up, grip tightening on his training weapon. This was his first step to becoming a glaive. He was really going to do it!

 

Two and a half hours later, Callum was sat on the training room floor, gasping for breath as Gladiolus nudged a bottle of water into his hand.

“You didn’t do too bad today, kid,” he said, leaning back and drinking down some water for himself. “So, what? You got a back injury or something?” Callum looked up at the man quizzically.

“Wait, how did you..?”

“Your stance is a little awkward, like your muscles can’t get limbered up. I can feel it in the way you hold your stance when attacked, too. I’ve seen others here like that, but it’s nothing you can’t work around.” The boy let out a relieved sigh at those words, also happy he hadn’t been quizzed on his injury.

They fell silent for a few minutes as Callum finally caught his breath. From the way his muscles ached, he was pretty sure getting out of bed in the morning was going to be his next big challenge. “So, how old are you, anyway?”

“Thirteen.”

“No way, you’re built like a tree!” He laughed as he received a light punch to the arm.

“Am not,” Gladiolus replied with a smirk. “But train like me and you can look this good too, y’know.”

Callum cast him a strange look. “Not sure it’d suit me, but I’ll think about it,” he said, finally hauling himself to his feet. The teen was there immediately as he wobbled slightly, letting him grasp onto his arm for support. “My dad’s gonna be here soon, I better get ready.” He began to walk away with a slight limp, before turning with a smile. “We can do this again real soon, right?”

It was Gladiolus’ turn to smile. “Count on it.”

 

Months passed by and Callum’s training with Gladiolus was nothing short of a success. They had worked around any potential issues from his back injury, and all that was left now was for the now ten year old to continue learning how to effectively wield weapons. That part, however, wasn’t going as smoothly as defense training. He had a frustrating amount of trouble keeping track of everything, with every minute sound catching his attention, or focusing on movements from the corner of his eye. That, alongside watching out for when to block and when to strike, was becoming a fast source of frustration.

He threw his wooden sword to the ground, cursing under his breath as he sank to the floor. Gladiolus joined him seconds later, remaining silent as he side glanced the boy, waiting for him to talk.

“This isn’t supposed to be so hard, right?” he said, wincing as an ache ran through his shoulder. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Well, you’re looking at everyone except your opponent. That isn’t going to help.” Callum let out an unenthusiastic snort of air.

“Aren’t you supposed to keep an eye out for everything on the battlefield, though?”

“‘Course, but there’s a difference between looking out for any sneak attacks and someone just happening to walk by.” Gladiolus placed a firm hand on Callum’s shoulder. “There’s no one else in this room that’s gonna attack you, kid. Focus on me, not the world around you. When you’ve got that down,  _ then _ you start worrying about what’s sneaking up on you.”

“Right,” Callum replied with a sigh, picking the sword up once more as he moved to stand up.

“Ready to go again already?” Gladiolus asked, hoisting himself back to his feet, sword in hand once more.

“We still got an hour. Why not?” A smirk had arisen on Callum’s face. He was definitely persistent, that much was certain. As they continued, it was clear to Gladiolus that the kid has some sort of problem keeping focus—add a few outside distractions and his attention was everywhere at once. It was something beyond his ability to fix—if it even could  _ be _ fixed—but the reassurance that no one would disturb their session certainly helped. Each time he realised he’d let his focus waver, he’d draw in a deep breath, ready to try again. He wasn’t going to give up anytime soon; Gladiolus respected that. He was going to be absolute dynamite with the right kind of discipline.

 

Almost two years since their first training session, and Callum walked into the training room as casually as ever, picking his familiar wooden sword and running through a few quick stances as Gladiolus entered. Callum looked up at him, lips pressed together in curiosity. “You’re late today,” he noted, resuming his stance. The teen ran a hand over his face.

“Yeah, had things to do. Sorry kid.” Callum shrugged, walking over to his instructor as he picked up his own sword. “So,” Gladiolus began, eyes cast down upon his weapon. “Pretty sure this is gonna be our last session together.”

“Wait,  _ what _ ?!” Callum squeaked, moving to stand directly in front of Gladiolus. “But you said I had  _ way _ more to learn!”

“I know what I said,” Gladiolus replied with a roll of his eyes. “But I ain’t gonna be the one to teach you.” He handed his sword to Callum and hoisted a much larger weapon from the rack. “I’ve started training with the greatsword now. Totally different set of stances and techniques, and I’ve already taught you everything I know about fighting with regular swords.”

“Then I’ll learn the greatsword too!”

“You’re too scrawny for that,” the teen said abruptly. “Give it a few years and I’m sure I can show you a thing or two, but right now, you’re sticking with lighter weapons. Your back’ll thank you.”

“So...this is it then, huh?” Callum hadn’t even considered needing to train with someone else; he’d got into rhythm with Gladiolus in such a short time, having him as a mentor just felt natural.

Now it was Gladiolus’ turn to shrug; Callum could have sworn he looked disappointed. “Sorry, kid.” A long, awkward silence descended as Callum held the two swords tightly in his grasp. His eyes darted about as words danced on the tip of his tongue.

“Can I...still spar with you? Even when I’m training with someone else, I mean.” he asked quietly, eyes trained low. Gladiolus looked at him quizzically, before smiling and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“If you wanna stick with me so bad, then sure, why not?” Callum grinned at the response. “Your dad’s got my number, we can arrange something, I’m sure.” Propping his wooden greatsword back on the rack, he held out his hand to take his training sword back. “So, we still got an entire session left. You ready to go?” The boy smirked.

“Always.”

 

He’d found a new swordsman teacher soon enough. A quiet member of the crownsguard who only seemed to have time to idle chatter during designated break times. The regimen was a lot more ‘by the letter’ than Gladiolus’ had been, but he was adapting well. What caught him off guard was the additional weapons training he had begun to receive on top of his regular drills. His impatience to learn had guaranteed that they wouldn’t go easy on him.

Learning to wield the katana from the marshal himself was positively daunting after having such a relaxed attitude with Gladiolus. It was clear Cor Leonis had no time for the boy’s tendency for distraction; the man’s face was etched with duty and discipline.

He’d heard the stories floating around. Cor the Immortal, they would call him, yet he never knew why. Instead, he heard boundless tales of the man’s escapades, laying waste to those who stood in his way for the sake of his king and his home. Seeing the look in the man’s eyes as he stood before him, Callum believed every single word, a chill running down his spine as their eyes met.

“Our time together will be short,” Cor said bluntly, unsheathing his katana. “I assure you that the katana is not a weapon you shall need to master as a member of the kingsglaive, but nevertheless, knowing how to strike down your enemy by any means necessary is important when a part of the royal guard.”

There was nothing particularly momentous about what the marshal spoke, but with the severity he spoke with, each word etched deeply into Callum’s mind. He remained silent, stood straight, waiting for instructions. Cor sheathed his weapon once more, handing it to the boy.

“We’re going to be using the training dummies today. Come now.” Callum trotted behind the man nervously, katana rested in his arms, nerves growing at the thought of using a real blade for the first time. He knew Cor wasn’t one to mess around, but this was going  _ much _ faster than he’d thought.

“D-don’t I get a training sword first?” Callum asked hesitantly as they approached the bags.

“To train with a weapon so different in weight and balance would be fruitless when the time comes to wield the real thing.” He cast a look down at the boy as they stopped. “I have no intentions of training you twice.”

“R-right.” Callum looked at the blade in his hand, gripping it tighter as he took in a deep breath to calm his nerves. His eyes narrowed with focus and determination as Cor took him through the stances.

Just one more step on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gladio wasn't gonna appear much in this fic until later...then this chapter happened xD Anyways hope you all enjoyed, thanks for reading! <3
> 
> ~For updates and fandom stuff, check out my [art/writing](http://doodlebless.tumblr.com) and [fandom](http://angel-bless.tumblr.com) blogs. Also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/angel_bless) too!~

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be making a series out of this with additional one shots, so if anyone wants me to delve further into any part of the fic, don't hesitate to mention! I've got some ideas already, but I'd love to hear what anyone else would like to see more of :D
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! <3
> 
> ~For updates and fandom stuff, check out my [art/writing](http://doodlebless.tumblr.com) and [fandom](http://angel-bless.tumblr.com) blogs. Also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/angel_bless) too!~


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